Title: Are You In Love Yet? Part 5
Author: Constant Vigilance
Status: FIN
Email: tirel@pcnuthut.com

Website: https://www.angelfire.com/tv2/firebird_ascending/
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Draco/Neville
Spoilers: AU. Post Hogwarts.
Warnings: Slash, Mpreg (for a bit)
Disclaimer: I own nothing. JKR is God.
Summary: Draco is cursed. Neville teaches him to save himself.
Notes: This story is an entry in Misconceptions: Harry Potter Mpreg Fuh-Q-Fest Wave 2 (http://hpmpregfqf.design-of-decadence.net/)

Challenge #274: Incorporate plot elements of the fairy tale Beauty And The Beast into an Mpreg fic. (Submitted by Turquoisia Xenia)

Neville began to worry after Draco had passed out for the third time in as many days. The Slytherin claimed that he was just pushing himself to exhaustion and finally falling asleep where he stood. Neville wondered at the validity of that statement as he’d been nagging Draco for weeks on just that. Why would the highly intelligent Malfoy choose to use that as an excuse? Unless, the truth were worse.

Neville followed Draco after that, sneaking behind him as he went to the loo, tiptoeing around as he wandered into the kitchen for a snack. And finally, Draco did it again. He passed out on the way to the lavatory. The difference in his story and what Neville saw was in the agonized expression on Draco’s face as he fell to his knees. It was in the tiny whimpers released from pinched lips. It was in the unwitting sob that escaped Draco’s throat as he curled around his belly and finally succumbed to unconsciousness.

When Draco awoke, he was a bit disconcerted to find himself in his bed, blankets pulled up to his chin and a stony faced Neville Longbottom staring at him in disappointment.

“You said you were just tired,” Neville stated coldly.

“I…er, I was tired,” Draco offered lamely. He sighed and tried to sink further into the bed. “And in pain,” he admitted. “But I didn’t want you to know.”

“Why?”

Draco squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m not weak. I’m not. I’m a Malfoy,” he protested. “I should be able to handle this. Without the public’s knowledge of my curse or my pregnancy.”

Neville ran his hand over his face, 5 o’clock shadow apparent as he’d spent the whole day hovering over Draco’s bed. “Malfoy, you are the most stubborn idiot I know,” he growled. “You are aware that you are giving Harry Potter a run for his money, aren’t you?” Draco looked highly offended and Neville couldn’t help but snicker at his horrified expression.

“I need to find someone who can help you,” he said softly. “You have to let me go back to civilization and find a mediwitch. You have to, Draco.”

Draco rolled his head away from Neville. “Fine,” he bit out. “I don’t suppose you’ll let it drop now that you’ve found me out.”

Neville shook his head wryly. “Not a chance in hell, Draco.”

Draco nodded and continued to stare at the wall. “Perhaps you can see your friends while you’re there,” he said hesitantly. “You’ve been here a long time, I’m sure you’re missing them.” Neville searched his face for signs of a joke and found none.

“Yes, I do miss my friends,” he acknowledged. “And my Gran.”

“You should go. See them. Find a mediwitch.” Draco’s voice sounded forced even to him.

“All right,” Neville agreed hesitantly. “But I’ll be back soon. I can’t imagine it would take more than a couple of days to find someone with the credentials and who is discreet.”

Draco winced. “You’ll be gone overnight?” he whispered.

Neville looked down worriedly at him. “Do you need someone to stay with you while I’m gone? I can make arrangements. So you won’t be alone in case something happens?”

Draco smiled thinly and shook his head. “No. I’ll be fine. I…I guess I just got used to you here, in the house. It’ll be strange with you gone.”

Neville reached over and took Draco’s furry paw in his hand. “I’ll be back as soon as I can, Draco,” he whispered, stroking the soft fur. “I promise I’ll have someone to help you.”

“Yeah, all right,” Draco nodded. “Hey,” he called as Neville stood to leave the room. Neville turned back with an inquisitive glance. “You in love with me yet, Longbottom?” Draco asked, realizing as he did that he might want it to be true for more than the original reason. Neville just grinned and walked out the door. Too quickly to notice a minute change in Draco’s appearance. The fur grew a bit shorter and Draco’s fangs didn’t seem quite as sharp. But then, Draco didn’t notice either. He only had eyes for the Gryffindor.

“Come back to me, Neville,” he whispered when the door had shut. “Please don’t forget to come back to me.”

Less than an hour later, Gillum handed Neville a portkey that he stated came straight from Draco’s hand. A gorgeous piece, it had thinly cast silver dragon wings that wrapped around the wearer’s finger. Gillum left him with explicit instructions that turning it three times to the left would take him to Hogsmeade. Turning it three turns to the right would return him to Malfoy Manor.

Neville smiled and gave in to impulse, petting the little elf’s ear. “I’ll be back with the best help that Draco’s money can buy.” Gillum nodded, his huge eyes watering, and stepped back to wave goodbye. Neville spun the ring on his finger and when he opened eyes he hadn’t realized he’d shut, he was in Hogsmeade.

____________________________________________________________

Neville dropped down onto the bed with a sigh of relief. Staring up at the familiar stone ceiling, he thought about everything that had happened this morning. After practically running from Hogsmeade to Hogwarts, he had arrived in front of Dumbledore’s office. He was fully prepared to go through every candy he’d ever heard of to get the damn thing open, but he wound up not having to.

The door opened in front of him revealing Harry and Hermione accompanied by Albus Dumbledore himself. Their reunion had been swift and sweet for, though he desperately wanted to catch up with the two newest Hogwarts professors, he wanted even more desperately to do something to help Draco. He promised to meet them for dinner that evening and then quickly brushed them off, ushering Dumbledore back into his office.

Three cups of tea and enough sherbet lemons to choke a Thestral later, Dumbledore sat with hands steepled and a concerned look on his face. “I’d suggest our very own Poppy Pomfrey,” Dumbledore stated. “She is familiar with male pregnancy and is the soul of discretion. Perhaps you should speak with her.”

Neville nodded. “I will sir. I’m just worried,” he hesitated, “I don’t want you to be without a mediwitch but I’m pretty sure she’ll be spending a bit of time with Draco.”

Dumbledore smiled widely. “Oh, I’d not worry about that. We have a new mediwitch doing her practicals. I’m sure Miss Weasley would be delighted to have the infirmary to herself for a bit.”

Neville’s jaw dropped. “Ginny is a mediwitch at Hogwarts?” he squeaked.

“Most certainly,” came the chuckled reply. “And anyway, Poppy would have my beard should I not allow her to help a former student. Just between you and I,” he leaned forward towards Neville conspiritally, “Poppy has a bit of an obsession with making sure her ‘children’ are all well and happy.”

Indeed, when Neville approached her an hour later, she was thrilled beyond all measure at being asked and immediately concerned about Draco’s lack of health care thus far. She grilled Neville for nearly 45 minutes straight on every symptom and twinge that Draco had experienced. He was so relieved to see Ginny when she interrupted them that he swung her in a brief circle of welcome.

Poppy waved them off at that point, falling into her medical books in a search for an answer to both the problem pregnancy and the curse and Ginny dragged Neville off to dinner with Harry and Hermione.

He knew that his friends had always been considerate of his need for avoidance. Never did that come into play so obviously as when Hermione asked where he’d been for the last few weeks. After Neville had blanched and stuttered over what was clearly an unsatisfactory response, Harry clapped him on the back and grinned. “Doesn’t matter where you’ve been, Nev. Just matters that you’re here now.” That had set the tone for the rest of the rather enjoyable evening.

And so now, he lay on the bed in a spare room in Gryffindor tower, compliments of Dumbledore, and he thought about what had brought him here. Neville knew that, near squib or no, he had the heart of a Gryffindor. Even though he might faint on occasion (but he hadn’t done that for the last few weeks) and he was never the first to volunteer for anything (excluding the original trip to Malfoy Manor) and he wasn’t exactly the most forceful of past Gryffindors (though he’d managed quite nicely to make Draco see reason and let him go looking for help).

Hmmm. Well, maybe it was just Draco. Draco seemed to bring out who Neville really was. He was quite aware that he should be terrified of the ‘monster’, but all he could see was the pained look in those gray eyes when he watched Neville using utensils at the dinner table or flipping through a book. All he could see was the tiny smile and nod of thanks as Neville offered to help research. All he could see was the agony in Draco’s eyes as something else went wrong with the pregnancy, something that not only hurt like hell but that neither one of them could identify.

All he could see was the sad desperation in Draco’s eyes at the realization that Neville was indeed leaving.

Neville fell asleep to that look. He woke with a new determination to see this through, to get Draco the help he needed, and to stand by him no matter what the outcome.

The next morning Neville sat at the head table with the other staff. He smiled at Harry and Hermione, pretending he was actually listening to them, and pushed his food around on his plate and tried to replace his friends in his head with Draco. After breakfast, he headed to the infirmary but was waylaid by Dumbledore. Giving a polite smile, he none-the-less sighed before following the headmaster up to his office.

As Neville obediently slipped into the sitting room, the sound of a chair scraping on the floor drew his attention. He glanced up and stopped dead. “Gran!” The smile on his face was suddenly real and he dove towards the older woman, arms flung out.

He pushed back after a long hug and beamed at her. “What are you doing here?” he asked happily.

“Well, the headmaster let us know that you’d surfaced from that…house,” she said disapprovingly, letting him know that Hogwarts should have been the second stop on his journey.

Neville shook his head in apology and replied softly, “Sorry, Gran. It was important that I get here as quickly as possible to speak to Madam Pomfrey.”

His gran gave him the searching look that he’d always dreaded as a child. It stripped away all of his defenses and left his soul bare for her perusal. She could tell at a glance what he felt, what he thought. He used to hate it. Now, he just smiled peacefully at her and let her look her fill. Apparently, she liked what she saw because she smiled back and nodded.

“Well, that’s fine then,” she accepted his offering and if she blinked a bit rapidly to clear her eyes, no one mentioned it.

“Neville!”

Neville flinched.

“How have you been coping?” Morgan flung his arms around the unresponsive young man. “We were so worried! Is that monster…did it harm you?” Morgan asked apprehensively as he stepped back, subtly wiping his hands off on his trousers. Neville could, however, see a glint of hopefulness in the gaze.

The Gryffindor smirked. “No, Morgan,” he drawled, an impressive impersonation of the man he’d been living with for weeks. “As a matter of fact, it didn’t hurt…at all.” He winked. Morgan’s jaw dropped and Neville could have sworn that he heard two distinctively different snorts from behind him.

“S-so the m-monster really wanted to…” Morgan’s voice faded out as a horrified look formed on his face.

Neville couldn’t keep a straight face. He snorted. “For Merlin’s sake, Morgan,” he rolled his eyes. “What kind of a idiot are you?” Morgan narrowed his eyes. “The ‘monster’ is a man with a curse on him. He’s not evil. He didn’t try to eat me or kill me…or shag me, thank you very much.”

“Well, I…I knew that,” Morgan blustered. “I now know who it is. I did a bit of research. Draco Malfoy, isn’t it?”

Neville glanced at his Gran whose eyes widened a bit. “Yes, it is indeed Draco Malfoy,” he sighed in agreement. “Sit down, Gran. I have a lot to tell you.”

______________________________________________________________________

Morgan surreptitiously wiped the drool from the corner of his mouth as Neville finished with his tale of wonder. Malfoy sounded rich as hell! Perhaps the fancy house wasn’t just for show. Perhaps, too, he’d been just a bit hasty in pushing ickle Nevikins at the very rich and single man who just wanted someone to love him. Morgan gave a silent snort. For that kind of money, he’d fall in love and then follow it up with a shag…furry arse or no.

“Neville,” he cooed. “I’m so sorry you’ve had to go through all of that. To be cooped up with such a nasty man who just wants to use you.” He gently patted Neville’s arm. “I understand that I was wrong to ask you to take my place. It wasn’t fair to you. You belong here, with Gran. She needs you.” He looked pained as he dropped his eyes to the floor, thereby missing Gran’s eye roll and Dumbledore’s grin.

“I’ll go back in your stead,” he puffed up his chest bravely. “I’ll face my punishment like a man.”

“Er,” Neville pulled his arm back pointedly. “It’s not really punishment, Morgan. And I kind of like it there,” he added. “He’s not really so awful as I once thought. He’s trying to be a better person. He really is. And anyway, I promised to go back in a couple of days. I can’t break my promise.” He shook his head. “No, Morgan. You just stay where you are. Keep Gran company and let me deal with this.”

Morgan glowered but nodded brusquely. “Fine. If you think that best, Cousin,” he bit off.

“Oh, I do,” Neville smirked. “I really, truly do.”

_______________________________________________________________________

Morgan was determined to undermine Neville’s good fortune. He dropped pointed hints on an hourly basis about Gran’s failing health. He recited lists of things falling apart at the house and sadly admitted to his own inability to fix them. He plied Harry and Hermione with sob stories and begged them to have Neville see reason. Finally, he tried to sneak off to Malfoy Manor on his own while Neville was distracted with helping Pomfrey gather information.

Unfortunately for Morgan, he chose to sneak off out of the apparating boundary by way of Hagrid’s Hut. Fang brought him back, drool covered and having tremors whilst babbling something about giant spiders. Morgan spent the rest of the day in the infirmary under a great deal of calming potion. That night, Neville fell asleep still grinning at the picture Morgan made covered in boarhound slobber and forest floor dirt. His dreams didn’t stay quite as happy.

He wandered down the path to the lake, loving the warm breeze as it fluffed his hair and the gentle chirping of birds from all around him. He heard a noise off the path and moved to investigate. The noise became clearer as he moved closer. It was moans of pain. Neville tore through the foliage to get to the injured person. He really wasn’t surprised to find Draco.

The blonde man looked like he had in school, beautiful and regal. All except for the blood pooling around him, staining his blonde hair pink and his pale skin red. Neville raced up and fell to his knees next to him. “Draco!” he called, tears roughening his voice. “Draco, please! What happened?”

Draco opened pain filled eyes, his lashes fluttering slowly. When he caught sight of Neville, he smiled faintly. “You came,” he said breathily.

“Yes!” Neville agreed, his voice cracking. “Of course I came. I’ll always come for you. Always. Please, Draco! What happened?”

Draco blinked slowly. “You’d forgotten to come back to me,” he whispered.

Neville shot straight up in bed and stared at the stone walls surrounding him. A moment later found him flinging his covers off and throwing on his clothes from the day before. He snatched up his shoes, in too much of a hurry to stop and put them on, and raced out of the tower past confused teenagers. He didn’t stop running until he had slammed into the infirmary doors.

“Madam Pomfrey!” he shrieked. The woman came running from a back room, worry written all over her face.

“Neville? What on earth is it, boy?” she demanded, searching him for injury.

“No! Not me,” he cried. “You have to come now. Now! It can’t wait. He’s hurt. I know it! Please, come!” he begged, pulling her closer to the fireplace with each pleading word.

“All right, my boy. I’m coming.” She turned back to her office, holding up a hand as Neville protested the wait. “If he is indeed in as bad of shape as you believe, I’ll need my bag,” she pointed out.

Neville hated waiting, but he had to agree with her. Less than five minutes later, she was ready. He snatched up a handful of floo powder and yelled, “Malfoy Manor!” The floo deposited him in the main sitting room and he quickly stepped out of the fire for the mediwitch to come stepping out a moment later.

“I’ll check his room,” he shouted, racing off. “I don’t think he’s there, but it can’t hurt. I’ll be right back!” As he ran, he yelled for Gillum. The small house elf appeared directly in front of Neville, nearly causing a disaster in the middle of the hall. “Gillum, where is he?” he cried, skidding to a halt.

The elf wrung its fingers. “Oh, Master Neville,” he sniffled. “Master Draco is outside somewhere. He told us not to leave the house but he hasn’t come back for the longest time.”

Neville gently petted the elf on the top of the head. “It’s okay, Gillum. I’m here now. And I brought a mediwitch. Draco will be fine.” Gillum nodded and disappeared. Neville turned on a dime and began racing back the way he came. “He’s outside,” he shouted as he passed Pomfrey. He was surprised to find the old mediwitch keeping up with him as he bolted out the main doors.

Giving into the memory of his dream, he headed out to the lake. It was almost like déjà vu. He heard the moans. He broke through the bushes. He found Draco lying in a pool of blood. Granted, it wasn’t the Draco from their school years, but neither was it the furry beast that Neville had left behind two days ago. Unlike the dream as well, Draco was unconscious.

Madam Pomfrey went to work immediately. She cast spell after spell on the bleeding body before her. Poured potion after potion down Draco’s throat. Neville could only sit, holding Draco’s hand and try to keep from crying. He didn’t manage that part very well. Finally, Pomfrey sighed and sat back.

“He’s stable,” she stated. “Let’s get him back to the house and in bed.”

_______________________________________________________________________________

Draco went into bed. Neville stationed himself next to the bed. He sat holding Draco’s hand, silently begging him to wake and forgive him. Forgive him for being too late, for not forcing the issue of getting help earlier, for not making sure there was someone to stay with Draco when he left. He berated himself over and over, wishing he could do something…anything that would take this pain from Draco.

So focused on his internal self-flagellation was he that he didn’t notice sleepy gray eyes fluttering open until Draco smiled at him. “You came back,” Draco said happily, only to have his smile turn into a frown when Neville flinched at the familiar words. “What’s wrong?” Draco demanded, trying to sit up and wincing in pain.

“Sit still, you stubborn bastard,” Neville choked out, gently shoving Draco back onto the bed.

“What’s wrong, Neville?” Draco asked, a note of fear creeping into his voice.

“You…” Neville couldn’t meet his eyes. “You had a miscarriage,” he whispered. “You lost the baby.” Silence met his words and he put off glancing up as long as he could, but in the end, he had to see Draco’s reaction. The blonde was staring at their entwined hands. “Draco?” Neville asked softly.

Draco looked up at Neville, tears in his eyes and a wry twist to his lips. “I didn’t want it, you know,” he whispered. “I never wanted it. I hated it. I hated that Pansy forced it on me. Until you yelled at me that night.” He clutched tightly at Neville’s hand. “Then, it started to be something else. It started to be an opportunity for me to be a better person.” A small smile escaped through the tears.

“But I kept thinking that I was turning it from a burden into an excuse. My father lived vicariously through me, trying to make me into the perfect death eater, into Voldemort’s perfect lieutenant. Wasn’t I planning on doing the same thing with this baby? Living through it? Making sure it was pure and good and never let darkness touch it?” He looked up at Neville, who couldn’t stop his own flood of tears from washing down his cheeks.

“I’m sorry the baby died,” Draco said quietly. “I hope you don’t think I’m selfish, though, when I say I’m not sure if I’m sorry I didn’t have it. I don’t think I’m ready for a baby. And it’s better for any baby that I have to come into my life after I’ve figured out how badly I’ve fucked it up and have attempted to fix it.”

Neville wiped away a stray tear that had fallen out of Draco’s eye and caught in the fur at the corner. “I’m sorry the baby died, too, Draco,” he said softly. “But I agree with you that you weren’t ready for a child. And I don’t think you’re being selfish to recognize that. I do think, however, that when you choose to be a parent, that you’ll be amazing.”

Draco smiled weakly up at him. “Really?” he asked in a small voice.

Neville nodded. “Really. Sleep now. Rest. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Draco looked fragile. “Really?” he repeated.

Neville wanted to cry again. “Really.”

When next Draco awoke, it was morning. Madam Pomfrey had given Neville a list of potions to force onto Draco and he was determined to make the protesting man drink every last one of them. Gillum popped in and out of the room bringing them breakfast in bed and refills on coffee and pumpkin juice and wishes of speedy recovery from the rest of the elves.

Draco seemed amazed that the elves would care. Neville just grinned and told him of the ritual the elves had given him upon his decision to remain in the house. “They miss having someone to take care of,” Neville shrugged. “Of course they’re going to mother hen you to death until they get you all better.”

Draco grinned at the oxymoron and took another sip of his juice. Neville looked carefully at him. He looked a bit better. Less peaked, more lively. And surprisingly, less bestial. The fur was receding on the rest of his body, making the line of Draco’s original hair more obvious.

“Hey, can I ask you a favor?” Neville broached after a bit.

Draco nodded without hesitation. “Of course.”

“Do you think you’d be willing to come and see your mum some time?”

Draco stiffened immediately.

“You don’t have to, of course,” Neville assured him, a bit of disappointment coloring his voice.

Draco gave a sigh and the tension left his body slowly. “It’s not that I don’t want to,” he said slowly. “I’m just…afraid. What if I’m someone she can’t like? It’s bad enough that my real mother can’t stand me. I don’t know what I’d do if the bloody portrait hated me as well.”

Neville nodded in understanding and smiled. “I get it, Draco. Really, I do. But I can tell you that she won’t hate you,” he added softly. “And what better way to start mending the rift between you and your real mum than by practicing on your portrait mum. They are the same person you know. Narcissa Black is still deep inside of Narcissa Malfoy. And I know they will listen to you. And they will understand. And, Draco, they will love you.”

Draco gave a tiny smile. “Okay,” he whispered. “I’ll go visit her. Just…”

Neville captured his hand. “It doesn’t have to be today,” he said soothingly.

Draco nodded vigorously. “So,” he changed the subject quickly. “How are the plant plans coming along?”

Neville grinned at the obvious topic change but played along. “Still on hold, waiting for the scads of money that are sure to fall out of the sky,” he joked. “How about you?”

“How about me, what?” Draco asked, confused.

“Well, if you were to go about setting up a potions business, what would you sell? How would you go about it?”

“I…I don’t really know,” admitted Draco. “I’ve never considered it. It’s always been a pipe dream. You’re the first person I actually shared it with, to be honest,” he said shyly.

Neville smiled, a prickle of pleasure in his chest at that small fact. “Well, you could start it from home. You certainly have the room. You can get all the supplies you need and the books from Diagon Ally, or even Knockturn, I suppose.”

Draco raised an eyebrow, which was actually discernable against the body fur now. “Knockturn Alley, eh?” he smirked.

Neville gently smacked his arm. “Shut it, Malfoy. Anyway, what the hell else have you been doing these last few weeks? Somehow your ‘empire’ has gone on just fine while you’ve wasted away in your study looking up obscure references to curses. If you had spent time working on potions, just imagine how far ahead you could be right now?”

“I…I guess I could,” he said, a bit of awe in his voice. “Thank you, Neville. I never considered it a possibility before. But when you say it, it makes perfect sense.”

Neville grinned. “That’s what friends do for each other. Point out the obvious.”

Draco’s eyes melted into pools of soft gray. “Is that what we are?” he murmured. “Friends?”

Neville nodded. “If you like. I’d be honored to be your friend, Draco Malfoy.”

Draco smiled that tiny smile. “I’d be honored to have you, Neville Longbottom.”

______________________________________________________________________

Two weeks later, Neville was once again seated at the dining room table waiting for Draco. When the blonde man burst through the door, Neville looked up with a smile. “You’re late.”

“Sorry,” Draco grinned. “I got my first order today!”

Neville jumped up immediately and flung his arms around him. “That’s great!” he said excitedly. “I’m so proud of you!”

Draco nearly preened. “Here,” he held out a piece of parchment. “This is a list of potions I’m offering at the moment.”

Neville glanced over the list as he sat back down. A moment later and he was looking back up at Draco, eyebrow raised. “There sure are a lot of potions on this list that require special ingredients. Mostly plants,” he added wryly.

Draco grinned sheepishly. “Well, I was kind of hoping that a certain herbology master would help me out on that end.”

Neville smiled. “I’m not a master, Draco,” he pointed out.

Draco glared. “You could be. If you wanted. You’re bloody brilliant. And I don’t care if you don’t have the credentials to back it up. I know you’re master potential and on that note, I was hoping that if I provide you with the space and the starts for the plants, several of which I have right here, or could get much quicker than you, you could go right into business. You could repay me by growing and harvesting some of the ingredients I need for my potions. It’s a win-win deal, Nev. I’m really not trying to buy you this time. I just want to help. It’s what friends do, right?”

He finally had to stop to take in air and found Neville grinning at him like a loon. “What?” Draco asked self-consciously.

“Yeah, okay,” was Neville’s only reply.

“Really?” Draco nearly squealed.

“Really.”

Draco lunged out of his chair and flung his arms around the Gryffindor. “You won’t regret this, Nev,” he promised.

Neville pulled away enough to look Draco in the eye. “I know I won’t,” he whispered just before lifting his lips to Draco’s. The small bit of fur left on Draco’s face tickled but Neville was more focused on the warm, perfect coming-home feeling he got from the gentle press of lip on lip. Slowly, he pulled back and met Draco’s wide eyes.

“Wh-what was that for?” Draco whispered.

Neville shrugged. “You know. I seem to recall a certain question I grew rather fond of. I haven’t heard it in a while,” he pointed out.

Draco flushed and pulled away, shaking his head. “I can’t, Nev,” he said sadly. “I get it now. I can’t buy love. I have to earn it.”

Neville reached out and pulled him back in against him, standing up to look him straight in the eye. “And how do you know if you’ve earned it if you stop asking?’ Neville demanded quietly.

He could see the comprehension begin to dawn in Draco’s eyes. “A-are you in love with me yet?” his words barely audible.

Neville smiled at him, everything he felt shining forth in his eyes. “Yeah, Draco. I am.”

He leaned forward to kiss Draco again, but when their lips touched this time, a brilliant light shot from between the two men. Neville flinched backwards only managing to open his eyes back up when he heard Draco yelp. Squinting, Neville was able to make out Draco’s form on the floor. Beginning to panic, he dropped to his knees and lifted Draco’s head into his lap.

“Draco!” he cried. “Draco, are you oka—Draco?” he asked in awe. “Y-you’re back! The curse…it’s gone!”

The blonde man reached up and carefully felt cheeks free of fur for the first time in months. “I’m back,” he laughed up at Neville. “I’m really back!”

Neville planted a kiss on Draco’s smooth forehead and laughed with him. “Wow, I guess that curse really did need someone to fall in love with you.”

Draco shook his head, his own eyes shining back at Neville. “No. While you were gone to Hogwarts, I found the answer.”

“You found…well, why the hell didn’t you tell me?” Neville demanded, a bit hurt.

Draco shook his head. “The curse was a reflection of me. Either Pansy lied or she didn’t really read it well. It was never about getting you to fall in love with me. It was about me letting myself fall in love with you.”

Neville looked confused by the logic, but slightly mollified by the explanation. “But it happened when I told you I loved you.”

Draco smiled and shook his head again. “No, it happened when you kissed me afterward. When I realized that you really did love me. When I realized that I had nothing to lose by trying to pretend I didn’t love you back.”

Neville grinned slyly. “So you love me, hmmm?”

Draco nodded.

“You willing to spend your life with me telling me that every day?”

Draco beamed and nodded again.

“You willing to tell your mum that?” Neville grinned.

Draco nodded, rolling his eyes. “She actually knew before me. She and Amelia have apparently had a bit of a bet going on pertaining to when I’d finally get the balls to tell you how I felt.”

Neville grinned. “I knew I liked those ladies.” He looked deeply into Draco’s eyes and brushed a lock of blonde hair off of his forehead. “You maybe willing to give that baby thing another shot?” he asked a little shyly

Draco grinned and Neville felt a weight lift in his heart. “You willing to carry it this time?” Draco joked.

Neville stuck his tongue out. “Yup, I could do that,” he agreed with a loving smack on Draco’s arm. “Same old Malfoy,” he sighed dramatically.

Draco caught Neville’s hand. “Same old Malfoy, maybe. But thanks to you, a brand new Draco.”

And he moved forward to take possession of Neville’s lips.

~Fin.~